


the gifts of great hospitality

by moonythejedi394



Series: MCU Kink Bingo Round 5 [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Animals, Artist Steve Rogers, Awesome Sam Wilson, Barbed Penis, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blushing Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Flirting, Food, Gothic, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Masochism, Medicine, Mind Control, Nobility, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Older Man/Younger Man, Orgasm Control, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sadism, Shapeshifting, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Victorian, Wealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonythejedi394/pseuds/moonythejedi394
Summary: On a dark, stormy night in 1874, Doctor Samuel Wilson and his traveling companion Steve Rogers are forced to beg for refuge at a manor house not on the map. They are in good luck, for the Lord of the manor is happy to give them a dry place for the night.In fact, the Lord Barnes is pleased to give young Steve Rogers more than just a dry place to rest his head.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: MCU Kink Bingo Round 5 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937503
Comments: 22
Kudos: 208
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 5





	the gifts of great hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> _welcome to my last MCU Kink Bingo fic! this fic covers squares **mind control** and **shapeshifting**. this fic was beta'd by [jasmine](https://twitter.com/dot_astralis) and [miss jc](https://twitter.com/_jcsugar). please mind the tags!_
> 
> _**this fic contains blood drinking/letting during sex, magical mind control during sex (consensually), and monsters; our vampire transforms into a more gruesome depiction of a vampire. descriptions are given.**   
>  _
> 
> _and you did not miss daddy kink in the tags, for once i'm posting something that is not daddy kink. this fic also fills my own personal bingo of fics where sam wears a top hat_

# 

#  **_the gifts of great hospitality_ **

  
  


It had been cloudy all day, but no one had expected those clouds to coalesce and become the raging storm it was now. Rain lashed at the windows of the carriage, lighting illuminated the road, and thunder boomed across the sky, always frightening the horses.

Steve looks out of the windows with trepidation. They had anticipated another hour of daylight, an hour they needed desperately in order to reach the next parish, but the storm has cast a dreadful gloom across the countryside. 

"I fear the horses will be spooked and we'll be lost to the woods," he says fretfully to his companion.

Dr. Wilson, Sam to his friends, merely pats Steve's shoulder.

"Worry not, my boy," he says. "Mr. Barton is a highly skilled horse master. We'll be fine."

Steve continues to worry. He peers out of the window, squinting into the blackness. A side road leads off the main highway into the forest. Steve looks down it as they near and makes out the shape of a house.

"There!" he cries out. "Sam, look, a manor! We can ask for shelter!"

Dr. Wilson looks out of the window, then leans forward and bangs on the partition.

"Turn left, Mr. Barton!" he calls.

"Right-o, doc!" Mr. Barton answers.

Steve leans back in relief as the carriage moves left down the driveway. They'll get shelter from the storm and their poor horses will have a rest.

The house grows out of the dark earth and shadows of the trees as they near it. Mr. Barton pulls around a fountain in the middle of a circular driveway, putting the carriage's side to the front steps of the manor. Steve looks out the window again, trying to make out the house's features.

Parker, the carriage boy, opens their door and lowers a step. Dr. Wilson gets out first, putting on his hat at once to offset the rain. Steve follows him, donning his own hat, and looks up at the large manor. It sprawls across the grounds, with a glass greenhouse to one side and a second on the roof, connected to a half-story. Each window is peaked at the top and above the porch, the figures of stone guardians perch by the gutters to look down at them with carved snarls. Four towers stand at each corner of the house, with parapets lining the roof. 

Lightning cracks across the sky directly behind the house, casting a white glow upon the windows and the gargoyles. It's immediately followed by a crack of thunder. The horses whinny in fright and stamp their hooves. 

Steve is suddenly nervous once more, wondering if perhaps it would have been wiser to carry on to the nearby village.

Dr. Wilson walks up the front steps to the large front doors. A knocker rests in the mouth of a ghoulishly ugly creature, which Dr. Wilson lifts and raps against its plate. The sound echoes like thunder. Steve hurries to follow Dr. Wilson, while Mr. Barton and Parker remain with the horses.

Dr. Wilson waits for a moment, then lifts and bangs the knocker once more. Steve shields his eyes against the rain, his glasses streaked over. They wait another moment and Dr. Wilson lifts his hand once again, then the door suddenly opens.

A young woman in a maid's uniform pulls the door open. She looks at them with surprise, perhaps even tension.

"Good evening!" Dr. Wilson quickly greets. "I hate to trouble you, young ma'am, but we've been caught in the storm and hoped we could find shelter here. My name is Doctor Samuel Wilson, this is my traveling companion, Steven Rogers. We have with us two horses and two male servants. I hope we could request of the house's master a place for the six of us to rest until the storm passes."

The maid looks at him with wide eyes. She touches her chin, taps her lip, then shrugs.

"I shall ask," she offers. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," Dr. Wilson answers.

The maid steps aside for them to pass. Steve enters behind Dr. Wilson, and the two of them at once begin to drip upon the stone entryway. There’s a grand foyer just beyond the entrance, lined with magnificent carpets that Steve can just imagine tip-toeing around to avoid tracking mud and rainwater all over. The maid hurries out and to the right of the foyer, deeper into the house. 

Steve peers into the foyer, standing just on the edge of the entryway. Two doors lead off to each the north and the south as well as a magnanimous staircase split in each direction to the next floor. 

Hanging above the landing is a large portrait of a stern-looking man, dressed in clothes perhaps as old as the house itself; a long over-coat of sorts, almost a robe, that ended at the knees and had long slits up the sides from the bottom hem to the shoulder for movement of the arms. This, the painted subject wore over a belted doublet and tight pants worn with knee-high boots. He holds a feathered hat in one hand and a sword in the other. Steve, being an artist, was enraptured by the painting even from a distance. He can guess it had been made with oil, perhaps done on canvas or leather, and with vibrant red and blue colors that have survived fantastically however long it has hung in the hall. 

A cat abruptly brushes against Steve’s ankle. Steve jumps back, startled, and the cat looked up at him with large, gray eyes.

“Hello, puss,” Steve greets, bending low and offering his gloved hand for it to smell. “Nice to meet you.”

The cat, which is rather large for a housecat and covered in shaggy black fur, sniffs his fingers momentarily. It looks up at him, blinks once, then turns, its tail low, and stalks out of the entryway again.

“Only you would befriend a bad luck omen,” Dr. Wilson chuckles.

“Nonsense,” Steve answers. “Black cats are no more bad luck than you or I.”

Dr. Wilson merely continues to chuckle. Steve rolls his eyes.

The maid returns and bows to them a moment later, followed by another woman, this one older. 

“Lord Barnes would be happy to shelter you,” the maid says. “May I take your coats, sirs?”

“Thank you very much,” Dr. Wilson answers, removing his hat and coat.

Steve is caught by the maid’s words; _Lord Barnes_ would be happy to shelter them. They had stumbled upon the home of some local noble and simply knocked. He follows his friend’s lead, however, and removes his hat, coat, and gloves. The maid takes them and the older woman steps closer, then bows to them.

“If you would, please, sirs, follow me,” she bids.

Steve nods to Dr. Wilson and steps back. Dr. Wilson moves forward, follows the maid into the house, and Steve goes along behind him. The maid takes them down a long hallway, then turns right, and goes through a pair of double doors into a grand dining room.

A single man sits at the head of the table, putting down a glass of wine. There are three places set, all with brightly shining gold and crystal. Steve notes his striking resemblance to the portrait hanging in the hallway, even at the distance he’d seen the painting. His eyes are pale, his hair dark, though streaked with gray. He wore a trimmed full beard, pointed at the chin, that was also touched with gray. His face had the lines of wisdom that came with age, though his skin was clear and pale.

“The lord of the house, I presume,” Dr. Wilson greets, bowing at the waist and removing his hat. “I am Doctor Samuel Wilson, this is my companion, Steven Rogers. What a lovely home you have.”

Their host rises to his feet and offers his hand for Dr. Wilson to shake. Dr. Wilson takes it, clasping it firmly.

“Good evening,” their host answers. “I am, indeed, the lord of the house. I am Lord James Barnes.”

“An honor it is to be in your home, Lord Barnes,” Dr. Wilson quickly replies. “Mr. Rogers and I are tremendously grateful that you opened your doors to us during this dreadful storm.”

“Certainly,” Lord Barnes answers, his lip curling in a smile.

He releases Dr. Wilson’s hand and offers it again to Steve. Steve steps forward and takes the lord’s hand, then bows over it respectfully.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Barnes,” Steve offers.

“The pleasure is mine,” Lord Barnes answers.

Steve lifts his gaze again. Lord Barnes catches it and for a moment, Steve finds his breath caught in his throat. Lord Barnes’s hands are cold.

“I’ve sent my houseman and groundskeeper to help your staff stable your horses and put up your carriage,” Lord Barnes tells them. “They will be invited to have tea and supper with the rest of my staff. Please, sit, my friends. I imagine you are famished.”

“Thank you so much, my Lord,” Dr. Wilson replies. “We are indebted to you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Lord Barnes answers, flashing them a smile. “‘Tis bad luck to turn away strangers requesting hospitality, my friend.” 

“Even still, we are extremely grateful,” Dr. Wilson assures him.

“You’re most welcome,” Lord Barnes replies. “Please, sit.”

Steve steps around the Lord’s place and takes the seat on Lord Barnes’ left. Dr. Wilson takes the other place and they each wait for Lord Barnes to resume his seat before pulling their chairs out and sitting. Lord Barnes lifts the stopper from a crystal decanter and takes the wine glass at Steve’s place.

“It has been much time since I had guests,” Lord Barnes says as he fills the glass. “While I hope this storm passes quickly and does not put too much of a delay in your travels, I must admit I am gleeful to have company.”

Lord Barnes sets the wine glass by Steve’s place and takes Dr. Wilson’s.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Steve says. “I hope we are good company.”

Lord Barnes flashes him another smile, putting down Dr. Wilson’s glass. “I’m sure you will be,” he says, putting down the decanter and taking his own glass. “Now. To new friends.”

Steve and Dr. Wilson raise their glasses. Lord Barnes taps their glasses together and they each drink. The wine is rich and fruity, though not too sweet.

“I am pleased to inform you that my cook always makes too much food,” Lord Barnes said, offering a smile in first Steve’s direction, then Dr. Wilson’s. “I believe the main course tonight is duck.”

“Splendid, my Lord,” Dr. Wilson replied. “A great favorite of mine.”

“Wonderful,” Lord Barnes answered. “And here it is!”

Steve looked up to see two butlers and an older maid bringing in gold trays. The first butler lowered a large covered dish in front of Lord Barnes, the second placed another dish between Steve and Lord Barnes, and the maid put her dish down opposite the second dish. Together, the three of them removed the covers, revealing a roast duck, a steaming pile of roasted potatoes and other root vegetables, and a tureen of creamed spinach. The maid put down a boat of rich-looking gravy and one of the butlers placed a basket of bread rolls on the table, still steaming. The three servants bowed and then made their exit.

“Excellent,” Lord Barnes mused, picking up a carving knife and fork. “Please, feel free to serve yourselves. Mister Rogers, do you prefer white meat or dark meat?”

“Dark meat, if you wouldn’t mind, my Lord,” Steve answered.

“Dark meat it is!” Lord Barnes promised. “And Doctor Wilson?”

“A lovely breast would do me good,” Dr. Wilson replied, “thank you, my Lord.”

“Of course,” Lord Barnes said.

Lord Barnes served both of them first, giving Steve a leg quarter and Dr. Wilson his requested breast, before serving himself. Steve served the roasted vegetables and Dr. Wilson scooped creamed spinach onto each plate. It felt almost like a family gathering despite their host’s nobility and the lack of familiarity. Each of them took gravy and a roll, and Steve buttered his potatoes along with his roll.

“Shall we bless it?” Dr. Wilson asked, clasping his hands together.

Lord Barnes glanced at him, then smiled and nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “Please, as my guest, would you do the honors, Doctor?”

“Certainly,” Dr. Wilson agreed.

Steve folded his hands together and bowed his head. He heard Lord Barnes shift his arms, his cufflinks brushing against the gold plates.

“We thank thee,” Dr. Wilson began, sincerely but not dramatically, “o Lord in heaven, for this these gifts of shelter, of companionship, and hospitality. For our host, Lord Barnes, we thank thee for his generosity and kindness. Bless us, o Father, thy gifts to our use and us to thy service; for Christ’s sake. Amen.”

Steve crossed himself, as was his tradition. Lord Barnes did as well, though Dr. Wilson was Protestant, and therefore did not. Steve picked up a knife and fork and cut into his portion of duck.

“This smells wonderful, my Lord,” Dr. Wilson said, “my compliments to your cook.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it,” Lord Barnes answered with a smile. “She takes great pride in her food.”

“As she should,” Steve offers.

They eat, but Dr. Wilson and Lord Barnes maintain the conversation. Steve feels out of his element in the presence of a lord, with no title or pedigree to his name like Dr. Wilson. But he and Lord Barnes carry on their conversation quite happily, allowing Steve to listen in content.

After the meal, Lord Barnes takes them to a lounge, where he pours them sherry and offers them cigars. Steve politely declines.

“I have an odd perversion of the lungs,” he explains, “smoke makes me cough and choke quite dreadfully. But you please, do enjoy!”

Lord Barnes and Dr. Wilson have a cigar each as they drink the sherry, and again, Steve listens rather than joins in. He tries to look at them both, to be polite, but he finds himself always turning back to Lord Barnes.

He’s almost entrancing, Steve thinks. His features are far sharper than any nobility Steve has ever seen, in fact, he’s far slimmer than the nobility Steve has met before. His hands look strong, like he really uses them for work rather than delegating everything. When he smiles, his teeth are white and crisp. His canine teeth are, Steve thinks, sharp and long.

He’s really beautiful.

“I believe the hour is getting late,” Lord Barnes says, looking at a clock over the mantle. “I expect you’re quite tired after your travels. I’ll show you to your rooms for the night.”

Steve is startled that Lord Barnes himself would escort them, but smiles and says nothing. 

“Thank you so very much, again,” Dr. Wilson answers, “your hospitality is much appreciated.”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Barnes says.

As they step out, Lord Barnes touches Steve’s shoulder. It’s just a light touch, but Steve suddenly feels lightheaded and hot. Lord Barnes then looks at him, really _looks_ at him, with a small smile that, rather than brightens his eyes, seems to darken him. It’s like he knows.

“Follow me, friends,” Lord Barnes tells them softly.

Steve swallows, ducking his gaze. He hopes to God he isn’t blushing. He says a silent Hail Mary and follows Lord Barnes and Dr. Wilson from the lounge. 

Lord Barnes takes them through the entrance hall to the grand stairs leading up. As they go, Steve takes a breath to look at the painting hanging over the landing. Up close, the man in the portrait is near identical to Lord Barnes; perhaps it is, and the costume is just a novelty.

“Do you like that?” Lord Barnes asks, glancing back.

“Oh,” Steve says, taken aback that he’d been noticed, “yes, yes, it’s lovely. May I ask about it? Is it you?”

“Yes,” Lord Barnes answers, stepping back. “I had it commissioned when I built the manner and had the town founded.”

“What are the materials?” Steve asks, looking back now to examine the brushstrokes. “Is it oil?”

“Ah, yes, I believe so,” Lord Barnes tells him, “oil on wood, I believe.”

Steve nods, looking across the surface. “It’s beautiful,” he says. “Your artist was very talented.”

“Thank you,” Lord Barnes, smiling at Steve. “I am still very pleased with it.”

“Steven is an artist,” Dr. WIlson offers, “he’s quite talented, too; he’s illustrating my book.”

“Are you?” Lord Barnes returns, his smiling widening. “I have quite a passion for art, I have quite an extensive collection. I’ll show you soon.”

“I would love that,” Steve says quickly.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Lord Barnes says, taking Steve’s shoulder again.

Steve has to take a breath, his head going light again. He smiles, feeling a little weak, and hopes that he doesn’t faint before getting to his bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time his awful body crapped out on him at an awful time.

“Upstairs,” Lord Barnes says, guiding Steve forward.

The second floor takes them through a series of long, winding hallways. Lord Barnes walks them through quickly, with confidence, so much that Steve forgets how to get back to the stairs within just a few turns. 

“Here, Doctor,” Lord Barnes says as he stops, opening a door. “There’s a privy attached to the room, but down the hall, the glass doors go into a bath; your maid will have a hot bath ready for you shortly.”

“Wonderful,” Dr. Wilson answers, peaking into the room. “Oh, this is lovely, my Lord.”

“Thank you,” Lord Barnes says, smiling. “You enjoy your night, Doctor. Steven, if you’d follow me.”

Steve had expected that he’d be across from or next to Dr. Wilson, but Lord Barnes walks him away. Steve glances back at Dr. Wilson, who just smiles as he enters his bedroom.

“I’m afraid the only guest rooms my staff could prepare in time were on separate floors,” Lord Barnes tells Steve. “But your room has a lovely view of the gardens; if the rain stops in time for you to see them.”

“Let’s hope it does,” Steve answers brightly. “I quite enjoy plants, it’s a bit of a secondary hobby of mine. I keep asking Doctor Wilson to write about medicinal herbs and the like so I can illustrate them.”

“Well, why don’t you do it?” Lord Barnes says, looking him in the eye. “Catalogue the plants you find along your travels? I’m sure you could do it successfully.”

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that, he’s surprised again. “Well,” he murmurs, looking down with color rising to his cheeks. “I suppose I could. Writing isn’t much of a talent I have, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose,” Lord Barnes says. "Perhaps you ought to believe in yourself more, young man."

Steve looks down, color entering his cheeks. He nods.

They’ve walked to another grand staircase and Steve doesn’t even know how they got there. Lord Barnes takes him up, passing a few sculptures mounted on plinths and pedestals, down more halls, and again, Steve looks around and doesn’t know how they got where they are. 

“Here,” Lord Barnes says, stopping at a gilded double door and opening it. “You also have an attached privy, but the bath is also attached; I have a maid preparing a bath for you as well.”

“Thank you so much, Lord Barnes,” Steve says, turning to him and offering his hand. “Your hospitality is so appreciated.”

Lord Barnes smiles as he takes Steve’s hand. His eyes seem to darken again, their clean, blue-gray sinking into the black of his pupils. Steve feels lightheaded again. 

“I hope you enjoy your bath,” Lord Barnes says, his voice soft and melodic.

Steve nods. He blinks, Lord Barnes’s voice echoing in his head. For a moment, he can’t look away from Lord Barnes. Lord Barnes’s smile grows. 

“As unfortunate as the circumstances are,” Lord Barnes murmurs, “I am glad to have met you, Stevie.”

Steve nods again. He’s leaning against the door, his hands removed from Lord Barnes. He shakes himself, then gathers his thoughts.

“Thank you,” he repeats again, “I’m glad you brought us in.”

“Rest well,” Lord Barnes says, bowing his head.

He turns, leaving. Steve takes a deep breath, feeling dizzy, and steps into the room. He shuts the door, then sits in the first chair he sees. The dizziness is intense and his heart is beating out of his chest, all so suddenly. Typically, an attack like this is preceded by standing in the heat too long, or too much exertion, but Steve had been fine until stepping up to the doorway. He leans his head back against the chair, exhaling hard, and reaches up to undo his collar.

His tie is undone, the top two buttons of his shirt are released. Steve takes a moment to marvel that he’d been so dizzy, he doesn’t even remember undoing his tie and collar.

A knock sounds at the door. Steve forces himself up to answer the door. A maid has a bucket of steaming water, and Steve lets her in so she can run the bath. He sits again, then thanks her when she leaves.

He doesn’t want to waste the hot water, so he goes into the bathroom. It’s lit by multiple candles, casting a gleam across the room. There’s marble everywhere, and the tub is massive, white porcelain with gold clawed feet. Steve is amazed.

He undresses, leaving his clothes on a stool. Bottles of oil, bars of soaps, lotions, and towels have been set out for him. Steve adds some lavender and chamomile oil and a handful of salts to the water, swirls it with a hand, then eases his tired body into it.

“Lord, bless us,” Steve groans.

The bath is perfect. He might fall asleep in it. He exhales and sinks low, until just his face is floating out of the water.

Steve stays there until the water is lukewarm. At the very end, he takes soaps and washes his body and hair. He gets out, dries off, and applies lotion across his body. Wrapped in a towel, Steve returns to the bedroom, already feeling better.

The black cat of earlier is sitting on the bed, as though waiting for him. Steve smiles, glad to know he’s made more than one friend.

“Hello,” Steve murmurs, offering his hand to the cat. “Good evening, puss.”

The cat purrs and rubs its jaw across his fingers. Steve pats its head a few times, then goes to his suitcase and opens it. He puts on his nightshirt before removing the towel, then sits to put on socks to sleep in. The cat jumps off the bed as he’s returning to his case and, purring, runs between his legs. Steve smiles at it, bending to pet its back. He takes his evening pills, swallows a tonic, then combs his hair before putting on his sleeping cap. The cat follows him back to the bed, and as Steve gets in it, it jumps back up onto the bedding and pads over to him, purring up a storm.

“You are quite friendly, aren’t you?” Steve tells it as he lays down.

The cat answers him by climbing onto his stomach and kneading him. Steve laughs and pets it; it pushes its head into his palm and rubs against him.

“Go on, lay down,” Steve tells it, patting his chest. “It’s time to sleep, puss.”

The cat moves up his body, kneads at his sternum a bit painfully for a moment, but then puts its weight down and lays on his chest. Steve is quite charmed by its weight and strokes a hand down its back. It continues to purr, laying its head on his chest.

“You have just the most lovely eyes,” Steve murmurs.

They were a blue-gray, almost like Lord Barnes’s. The cat purrs louder, rubbing its jaw along his hand. Steve yawns, quickly covering his mouth, then settles back, adjusting his pillows.

“Time to sleep, kitty,” he says softly. “Goodnight.”

The cat purrs on as he falls asleep. Steve leaves his hand on its back. 

*

When Steve wakes up, the cat is gone. He sits up and stretches, then rubs the back of his neck as he takes in the room. It’s still dark with the curtains drawn, so Steve gets out of bed and moves to the windows. He pulls them open and fortunately the rain had stopped during the night.

Inexplicably, he feels a bit disappointed. He would have liked to spend more time at Lord Barnes’s home. Perhaps they will have enough time before he and Dr. Wilson get back on the road to view the Lord’s art collection.

Steve dresses, tucking a cravat into his collar and pinning it with a broach. He swallows his pills and tonic, then packs up his case and makes the bed. He leaves the room, but finds himself unsure how to find his way down to the ground floor.

“Perhaps this way,” Steve murmurs, turning right. 

The halls stretch on, leading Steve through passage to passage without finding the stairs. He makes turns, but quickly finds he doesn’t even know where his bedroom is. Steve covers the back of his neck with a weary hand, looking back and forth in deep confusion.

He makes another turn, but finds the hall interrupted by a large set of heavy curtains. Steve pauses, curious, then thinks that it won’t harm anyone if he peeks beyond them. He nears and touches the fabric; it’s a soft velvet, a delicate pink he wouldn’t have expected in a Gothic home such as this. He pulls the curtains apart and finds a staircase leading up.

Steve needs to go down, but he is already lost, so thinks it might do good to go somewhere else for a change.

“Good morning, Steven.”

Steve jumps at the sudden voice, dropping the curtain as his hand flies to his chest while his heart skips a beat. Lord Barnes smiles at him, hands folded behind his back. He wears an attractive morning suit, black with a deep red vest. Steve quickly smiles, stepping away from the curtain.

“Good morning, my Lord,” he says, bowing a little at the waist. “My apologies, I seem to have lost my way.”

“Quite understandable,” Lord Barnes answers. “Waking in an unfamiliar place can do that to a man. I can escort you to breakfast, if you wish.”

“That would be lovely,” Steve says with a smile.

Lord Barnes then offers Steve his elbow, like a gentleman to a lady. Steve is startled, flushes, but the gesture is kind and he finds himself taking Lord Barnes’s arm.

“How did you sleep?” Lord Barnes asks, walking Steve away from the soft pink curtains.

“Quite well,” Steve answers with a smile. “The black cat joined me and spent quite a bit of time with me. He was gone when I woke up, however.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Lord Barnes says with a smirk. “Yes, he tends to follow pretty things to bed whenever possible.”

Steve flushes again, looking at Lord Barnes in surprise. He smiles, chuckling nervously, but his heart is picking up speed again.

“I suppose in the absence of a lady, I was the next best thing,” he says.

“Perhaps,” Lord Barnes answers, looking ahead. “I’m not quite sure he minds the difference.”

Steve swallows and looks down at the floor. Lord Barnes squeezes his hand on his elbow as they walk on.

“That is, um, an interesting name for a cat,” Steve adds, hoping to change the subject. “Bucky. Where did he get that?”

“From Buchanan,” Lord Barnes says. “T’was my sister that shortened it to Bucky.”

“Your sister?” Steve replies. “Does she live near here?”

“Alas, she does,” Lord Barnes answers, but his voice is heavy. “She left us many years ago. She rests in the family cemetery.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says quickly. “My condolences.”

“T’was a long time ago,” Lord Barnes replies, giving Steve another smile. “I have made my peace.”

Steve nods, not sure what else to say. “My mother passed a few years ago,” he offers, “t’is a dreadful grief at times still.”

Lord Barnes nods. “Here we are,” he says.

Steve looks up and they’ve reached a staircase leading down. Steve is relieved, but curious as to how quickly they reached it; he’s sure he passed through this hallway earlier and there had been no stairs. Perhaps the Roman bust behind them has a twin.

Lord Barnes leads him to the stairs to the ground floor soon after leaving the third floor. They pass the Lord’s portrait and Steve gives it another glance, still fascinated by it. 

“It is a lovely morning, I had thought breakfast could be served in the greenhouse,” Lord Barnes tells Steve as they pass through the entrance hall. “Your Doctor Wilson is there already. Tea has been served.”

“Oh, I suppose you were waiting for me,” Steve says regretfully, “I am sorry I was late.”

“T’is no trouble, young man,” Lord Barnes tells him, leading him down a long, narrow hallway. “Here we are.”

Lord Barnes opens a door. The hallway opens up to a large greenhouse, bright morning light filling the space and showcasing several luscious plants. Steve sees flowers he doesn’t even recognize, their blossoms new and unfamiliar to him.

“This is beautiful,” Steve says, touching a red rose. “My compliments to your gardener.”

“I maintain the greenhouse, actually,” Lord Barnes says with a proud smile. “I have a few hybrid blooms I’m sure you’ll love. I’ll let you take some for pressing.”

“Thank you,” Steve answers, touched by his thoughtfulness and the fact that he remembered Steve’s love of plants. “I would love that.”

“Good morning!” Doctor Wilson greets them with a wide gap-toothed grin. “Glad to have you with us at last, my friend; I nearly worried your bum ticker had stolen you from us in the night.”

“Fortunately not,” Steve answers with a laugh, taking his hand from Lord Barnes’s arm. “Good morning, Sam. How was your rest?”

“Beautiful,” Doctor Wilson says brightly. “Slept like the dead.”

“Excellent,” Lord Barnes says, taking his seat. “Now that Steven has joined us, we’ll have breakfast in just a moment.”

They sit in ornately sculpted chairs at a matching table. A tea set is already there and Doctor Wilson pours Steve a cup, adding a single cube of sugar for him. Steve takes it with thanks, stirs it momentarily until the sugar is dissolved, then sets his spoon on the saucer and sips. Doctor Wilson is telling Lord Barnes about his book, explaining the need for a comprehensive guide on anatomy and physiology in today’s world. 

“And the illustrations are the best part,” Doctor Wilson adds, gesturing to Steve with his tea. “It’s one thing to _tell_ a student what the body looks like, another entirely to have perfectly detailed diagrams.”

“I would love to see this book,” Lord Barnes replies, offering another smile. “I would love to see any of your work, actually, Steven.”

“I would love to show you,” Steve answers, dropping his gaze as he smiles bashfully.

“I keep telling him he ought to present something at the salons in Paris,” Doctor Wilson says, “he has this method of capturing the human body that just gives it _soul,_ and that’s coming from a Black man – we know more about soul than the whole world.”

“I quite agree,” Lord Barnes says. “Your folk’s music has inspired more in the last fifty years than anything created in Europe before our countries began to mix.”

“A blessing for Europe,” Doctor Wilson answers proudly. 

Staff enter shortly with covered trays. They set them down on the round table, then remove the covers and leave. Steve had expected them to serve the food, but Lord Barnes stands and does it himself. Quite uncharacteristic of a noble, but the gesture from their host is kind.

They have baked fish and poached eggs, toast with goat’s butter, and seared tomatoes dressed in a sweet vinaigrette. As with supper the night before, Lord Barnes and Doctor Wilson maintain a conversation while Steve listens. He finds himself examining the plants around them, but he does keep looking back to study Lord Barnes’s profile.

He would like to draw him, Steve thinks.

The meal comes to a close as they finish with tea again. The staff come in and clear away the trays and dishes, but they remain seated in the greenhouse. 

Steve glances at a sundial, finding that it’s nearly eight o’clock. He catches Doctor Wilson’s gaze and points to the sundial with his gaze.

“Is that the time?” Doctor Wilson says. “My word! I must thank you again for your hospitality, my Lord, but my companion and I must be getting back on the road.”

“I understand,” Lord Barnes says, rising to his feet. “I shall have my staff bring your luggage to your carriage. Perhaps you would like to see part of my art collection before you leave?”

“Yes, please,” Steve says eagerly before Doctor Wilson can answer. “Just for a moment.”

“I’ll show you some of my favorites,” Lord Barnes says. “Come, follow me.”

They leave the greenhouse, returning down the narrow hallway to the entrance hall. As they enter, they find a man in a threadbare coat and patched hat standing in the hallway, talking to one of Lord Barnes’s maids. They cut off as Steve with Lord Barnes and Doctor Wilson enter, then the stranger strides up to Lord Barnes and kneels before him.

“My Lord,” the village man greets respectfully. “I come here with an urgent request; the storm caused trees to fall in the village and many of us have been injured. I ask you to send your fastest rider to the nearest city and fetch a doctor.”

“What misfortune,” Lord Barnes answers, “but last night’s storm came with a silver lining. Doctor Wilson, could I trouble you to go with my man to the village and help those who have been hurt?”

“Yes, most certainly,” Doctor Wilson answers. “Would you have someone bring down my black case from my room, and I can leave at once.”

“Yes,” Lord Barnes says, gesturing to the maid, who rushes off. “Fear not, my child, there will be no wait for a rider to go to the city.”

The man takes Doctor Wilson’s hand and kisses it. “Bless you, Doctor,” he says, his voice touched with emotion. “Bless you.”

Doctor Wilson clasps his other hand over the man’s and squeezes it. “It is my oath to heal,” he promises. “I will do everything I can.”

The maid returns quickly, lugging Doctor Wilson’s medical case. Doctor Wilson takes it from her, then puts on his coat and hat and follows the village man out of the house at once. Steve steps up to a window and watches as Doctor Wilson mounts a horse with the village man and they rush off.

“Well,” Lord Barnes says heavily, “I do hope he’ll be able to save my villagers. I would hate to have to bury anyone this week.”

“Doctor Wilson is one of the best medical experts in the country,” Steve assures Lord Barnes, turning back. “He’ll save them, I’m sure.”

Lord Barnes nods, looking grave. “At least you have time to see my collection,” he says. “Follow me. I’ll show you my private collection on the fourth floor.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely,” Steve replies, stepping up to Lord Barnes.

Then Lord Barnes again offers Steve his elbow. Steve glances down at his arm, flushes a little, and bites his lip.

“Don’t want you getting lost again,” Lord Barnes murmurs.

Steve swallows carefully. This morning was one thing, a bit of a joke, but it’s unnecessary now. But they are alone. Lord Barnes’s staff surely wouldn’t say anything if – Well. Steve wonders if he’s being too hopeful.

He takes Lord Barnes’s elbow. Lord Barnes smiles.

They mount the stairs, taking them slowly. Lord Barnes is silent, so Steve follows his lead. They pass up to the third floor, going through the long hallways. Steve sees now, with the morning light, that the wallpaper is a blushing blood red, patterned with gold flowers and brocade. The curtains here are dark red, making Steve wonder about the pink curtain covering the stairs leading up.

That pink curtain is where Lord Barnes leads Steve. He opens it with a gentle hand, pulling the velvet fabric aside, and guides Steve through into the narrow stairway.

It opens up into a massive library, shelves towering above their heads nearly three times Steve’s height. He looks around in wonder, amazed at the collection. The library is lit with chandeliers, modern ones that look like they run on gas. Gaslamp sconces are mounted on the walls as well, but there aren’t any windows. Steve wonders if the books are sensitive to sunlight.

“Through here, lovely,” Lord Barnes murmurs, guiding Steve away from the library.

Steve’s heart skips a beat. He glances towards Lord Barnes, but doesn’t quite meet his gaze, licks his lips, and tucks his other hand into Lord Barnes’s elbow. First, it was calling him pretty by way of the cat, then offering his arm as a gentleman would to a woman, and now _lovely._

Lord Barnes could be quite polite. He could be queer. Steve’s heart is pattering quickly in his chest, praying for the latter.

They enter a large room, with wide columns set in the center. The walls are mounted expertly with framed paintings, sculptures are set up around the room, and at once, Steve has no idea where to put his eye. 

“These are some of my personal favorites,” Lord Barnes says in a soft voice. “Much of it is from the Renaissance period, a few Italians, Germans, some French.”

Steve lets his hand drift from Lord Barnes’s elbow and he starts to wander the room. He just starts with the painting closest, stepping in and watching his breathing so he doesn’t exhale onto the painting’s surface. Lord Barnes has little plaques put up on the wall beneath each painting and Steve is startled to see that this detailed portrait of a man and a woman in fine, rich clothing is a Rembrandt.

“This –” Steve gasps. “This is a masterpiece? Rembrandt inspired thousands of people.”

“I have a few of his pieces,” Lord Barnes says. “All of the artworks here are by someone well-known.”

Steve goes around the room, startled by every famous name he sees. Durer, Da Vinci, Rubens, – Lord Barnes has a sculpture by Michelangelo. 

“How have you managed to get all of this into one collection?” Steve asks him, absolutely floored.

“A very long time of searching and coveting,” Lord Barnes answers, stepping closer. “I crave beauty, Steven. I long to possess it.”

Lord Barnes stops very near him. Steven finds that he’s forgotten to breathe.

“When I find beauty,” Lord Barnes says in a low, slow voice, “I do whatever it takes to keep it.”

Steve swallows, taken aback. He glances to the art, then back at Lord Barnes. Lord Barnes steps closer.

“Perhaps,” he murmurs, “you would like to be kept, my boy.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he takes in a breath. He’s had men subtly indicate that they are like him, that they prefer his company over a woman’s, but he’s never had a man proposition him quite so boldly. His heart is racing, his mouth dry. Lord Barnes lifts his hand then and he cups Steve’s chin, lifting it up. He closes the distance between the two of them, almost until their noses brush.

“Hm?” Lord Barnes hums.

“Perhaps,” Steve forces himself to exhale.

Lord Barnes smirks. “Do you know, I spent a summer with Da Vinci,” he says. “Not only was he a phenomenal painter, but he was also one of the best lovers I’d ever had.”

Steve reels, blinking rapidly. “What?” he says, quite aware that Da Vinci had been dead for a few hundred years. “I – I don’t understand?”

Lord Barnes smiles again, showing Steve his teeth. His canines are long and gleam. In fact, they’re so long, they touch his lower lip. 

“Think, my darling,” Lord Barnes with a chuckle. “That portrait of me in the hall was painted in fourteen-twenty-two.”

Steve opens his mouth, baffled. Lord Barnes then touches Steve’s neck, making him gasp, and his fingers brush across – Across two bumps that Steve hadn't noticed until just now. Steve touches his neck, feeling small scabs just over his pulse.

“Oh –” Steve whispers. “Oh –”

“Your blood was sweet,” Lord Barnes says in a purr. “It invigorated me just enough to sit in the sun this morning. As many necks that I have supped from, yours has been the best by miles.”

“Vampire,” Steve breathes out. “You’re a vampire?”

Lord Barnes grins. “Yes, dearheart,” he says with triumph. “I have no cat, either.”

“That was you!” Steve gasps, hands flying to his mouth. “You –! You saw me changing!”

“And quite a sight it was,” Lord Barnes purrs again. “One I’d like to see again.”

Steve is sure he’s red all down his collar. He hadn't undone his collar last night, had he? Lord Barnes had. And Steve just hadn't remembered it. He’d been looking into Lord Barnes’s eyes, been so transfixed, and that must have been it. He must have used some vampiric magic to fog over Steve’s memory.

“My bedroom is that way,” Lord Barnes adds, nodding back to the door. “Shall we retire?”

Steve swallows. He nods before he can think better of it.

Lord Barnes grins. He takes Steve’s arm again, guiding him away. Steve almost wonders if he’s dreaming. They leave the gallery, Lord Barnes turns to the left, then they enter a grand master bedroom. A huge bed takes up the center of the room, elegant drapes hang from the canopy, a crystal chandelier, oil lamps, and a fireplace light up the room, but there are no windows.

Vampire. Right.

“Here, dolly,” Lord Barnes says, putting a hand between Steve’s shoulder blades. “The bath is through that door,” he says, pointing to a door off to the left. “I want you to get yourself ready for me. Take your time, we have all day.”

Steve licks his lips, heart hammering. Lord Barnes doesn’t even ask his preference, but he’s right, Steve has only ever enjoyed receiving. He nods.

“Yes, my Lord,” he says, nervous and trying not to show it.

Lord Barnes grips Steve’s chin, pulling him back. Steve looks at him with wide eyes.

“My given name is Bucky,” Lord Barnes says. “Call me that.”

Steve swallows again. “Like the cat – Oh. Oh.”

Lord Barnes _was_ the cat. Oh.

Lord Barnes smirks. _Bucky_ smirks. Steve’s never been on a first-name basis with a lord.

“Okay,” Steve says. “Okay. Bucky.”

Bucky nods. He taps Steve’s chin.

“Good boy,” he says. “Go on.”

Steve nods back. He steps back, then ducks his gaze and walks quickly to the bath. He sees Lord Barnes – Bucky – out of the corner of his eye, removing his jacket as he strides to the bed. Steve is shaking. He enters the bathroom.

There’s a fresh enema kit waiting for him. Steve wonders how Bucky knew this would happen. He’d said – He’d said he do anything to possess beauty. He couldn’t have planned the accident in the village. Surely. But there was no opportunity for Bucky to put this out before Steve entered unless he’d done it earlier in the morning. He must have planned some way of convincing Steve to say. 

Steve just rolls with it. He undresses and fills the enema bag with water from the pitcher. He gives himself a quick wipedown with soap and water before giving his hole a few fingers stretch and inserting the tube. He hangs the bag on a waiting hook, then lays down on a bench to wait.

It’s uncomfortable but the anticipation makes up for it. After releasing the water, Steve uses a bit of soap around and just inside his rim just to be sure, then, even more nervous, does another flush. He checks himself by smell; he’s satisfied and washes off again. He dries, then considers his clothes. Should he put them back on? Would Bucky prefer he leave the bathroom naked? He doesn’t know, he finds himself lost.

Steve, after a moment of indecision, just puts on his shorts and leaves the rest stacked neatly on the bench. He takes a deep breath and exits the bathroom.

He’s startled and confronted with Bucky, sprawled on the bed and already naked, arms folded behind his head. Steve freezes by the door, caught in awe.

“Are you just going to stand there, my darling?” Bucky calls. “Come here.”

Steve forces his feet into action. He lurches a bit, but makes it to the bed and climbs on. Bucky sits up and takes his hands as he nears, then pulls him to sit on his lap. Steve’s attention is caught by the beast of a cock Bucky has between his legs, larger than anything Steve’s ever taken in his life. Bucky is well-muscled, too, his thighs as thick as Steve’s entire torso, his arms as big as his head. Steve feels absolutely infinitesimal seated on Bucky’s lap.

“Look at you, gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, his gaze drifting up and down Steve’s body. “My word. You look as good as you taste.”

Steve blushes, hand going up to touch his neck and the bite marks that he doesn’t even remember Bucky making.

“How did you do it?” he asks softly. “Make me forget?”

Bucky smiles and cups his chin, making him look into his eyes. Steve suddenly feels airy, like he’d swallowed an entire bottle of absinthe and it was just starting to hit him. Bucky’s mouth moves, though Steve doesn’t quite hear it. However, he finds himself leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Bucky’s mouth without really thinking about it.

As he breaks eye contact, the lightheadedness fades. Steve is left feeling punched out, blood hammering in his ears. He lifts his gaze and again meets Bucky’s eye.

“What was that?” he asks breathlessly.

“Powers I have,” Bucky says, brushing a hand over Steve’s cheek. “One of the ways I prevent the staff and villagers from realizing that I have been here since the town was built in fourteen-eleven. It’s how I catch my meals as well, and keep them from remembering.”

“You did that to me last night,” Steve says dumbly.

“Yes,” Bucky chuckles. “You were very wanton as I did it, too. It took all my resolve not to pin you to the door and ravage you there.”

Steve shudders, glancing down at Bucky’s cock again.

“You’ll ravage me alright,” he whispers. “Which I’m quite enthusiastic for.”

Bucky laughs. He kisses Steve’s cheek, then his mouth, then takes Steve’s hand and puts it on his cock. Steve shivers at the velvet skin, running his hand up it. It's startlingly pink against his pale hand. He finds, somehow surprisingly, that Bucky is both cold to the touch and circumcised. It’s a bit odd to him, but he dismisses it. He puts both hands on it and looks down, then moans as he watches the broad head disappear in his comparatively small hands.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmurs. "Your hands are warm."

Steve nods, touching Bucky's cock gently and slowly. 

"You're overdressed," Bucky says. "Go on and take those shorts off, young man."

"Yes, sir," Steve responds automatically.

Bucky smiles, a chuckle forming in his throat. Steve stands up on his knees, his face going red as anything he's sure, and he pushes his undershorts down his hips.

Men typically have one of two reactions to him when his pants are gone, all cards are on the table. They either laugh or they coo about how adorable he is, and both reactions get his cock stiff as nails and his ears hotter than Hell. Bucky seems to be in the latter camp, as his eyes light up, he grins, and he sits up to put his cold fingers just under Steve's balls.

"What a cute little thing," he murmurs. "Oh, my boy, it's no bigger than your thumb! How precious is this?"

Steve burns with embarrassment as he looks down at Bucky's large hands and his short, stubby prick.

"Heavens bless us, this adorable little nubbin hardly stands up," Bucky chuckles. "No wonder you're a little fairy, young man, you couldn't even tickle a woman with this."

"No, sir," Steve confesses in a near whisper, his cock jumping between his legs.

"You're so sweet," Bucky says. "Come kiss me, dearheart."

Steve nods quickly as he leans in. Bucky cups his cheek as well as his cock and kisses him, lips slow and gentle. But his hand on Steve's cock suddenly squeezes, making Steve gasp into his mouth.

"I think you liked the magic, sweetheart," Bucky says against his mouth. "Would you like more?"

Steve nods again, looking into Bucky's eyes eagerly. Bucky chuckles and brushes his cheek again.

"Sweet boy," he murmurs, as his eyes begin to glow a bit. "Lay down on your back, pillow under your hips."

Steve moves, but it doesn't even feel like his body. That airy, intoxicated feeling is back as he fetches a pillow and lays down on it, his ass raised by it. Bucky moves in front of him, pushing his legs apart and kneeling between them. Steve is still looking into his eyes, still feeling the magic, and his body is responding eagerly. Bucky puts his hands on Steve's thighs and pushes them out.

"What other magic would you like to see?" Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs. He isn't sure his tongue even works right now, he certainly can't think very well.

"You know I can turn into a cat," Bucky says, sliding his hands up Steve's legs. "I can alter your mind. Would you like to see what else I can do?"

Steve nods again. Bucky smirks, then pushes Steve's knees out farther and leans over him. Steve takes a quick breath, dizzy from the magic and the closeness of Bucky's skin. Bucky smiles at him, showing his teeth, which suddenly are long enough to stretch out of his mouth. Steve looks back at his eyes and they're no longer a pale, icy blue, but bright red. And his skin is white as paper, his face isn't quite human anymore, his mouth stretched wide and grotesque into something, full of sharp teeth that drip as Bucky salivates, his ears are elongated to a point, and behind him, skeletal black wings unfold, large enough to block out the light of the candles and chandeliers. Bucky's hands grip Steve's thighs, his fingers claws now, and a forked devil's tail whips out from behind him. 

"Are you afraid?" Bucky asks, his voice altered by his fangs.

"No," Steve whispers.

Bucky grins. He pushes up and slaps his cock against Steve's hip, then he purrs: "What about now?"

Steve's eyes widen; it's suddenly twice the length and thickness, and he hadn't been small before. To make matters worse, the head is pointed like a sharp stinger, Steve can see little spikes dotted along the shaft, and there are thick barbs along the long frenulum that look like they can grow to even longer.

"I can change back, of course," Bucky purrs.

"No!" Steve says at once. "No… don't."

Bucky smirks, the smile a bit awkward with all those teeth. Steve shivers with lust, not even sure what about his monstrous appearance is so exciting. Probably his massive dick. Most likely.

"You need to be loose for my cock," Bucky murmurs, his tongue slipping from behind his fangs to lick his lips. "I'm going to lick that pretty hole until you're crying, my boy."

Steve lets out an involuntary whimper, but nods. Bucky then bends over him and his tongue, elongated an inhuman amount, runs across his neck to his jaw. Steve shivers and moans.

"Delicious," Bucky murmurs. 

Steve just stretches his arms up over his head, watching as Bucky kisses and licks down his body. He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling hard. Bucky reaches his hips and his tongue again slips from his mouth too long for a human to wrap itself entirely around Steve's cock.

It's a tight, wet squeeze, and Steve moans, pushing his head back. Bucky's tongue grips him, then squeezes as pulls off. Steve is left panting, his ears ringing a bit, as Bucky plants a kiss directly onto his hole.

"My lord," Steve pants out, hands clenching the sheets. "I may, um, I may finish before you're even started if you continue ministrations like that."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?" Bucky purrs. "Look at me, my boy."

Steve meets Bucky's eyes. They glow bright red, dimming all other lights in the room.

"You will not orgasm until I give you permission," Bucky says, his soft voice echoing in Steve's ear. "You will wait until I tell you you may come."

"Yes, my lord," Steve whispers, his mind washing in sweet, blissful oblivion.

Bucky smiles, too wide with too many teeth. "Good," he murmurs. 

Steve moans, his cock jumping. Bucky slides his hands, long-clawed fingers brushing against his skin in the hint of a threat, across his thighs and over his stomach, then he runs one claw across Steve's cock, from the root to the tip. Steve shivers, biting his lips.

Bucky winks at him, then bends down again with a deep purr. He kisses Steve's hip, then the underside of his shaft, then his sensitive and heavy balls. Steve moans, tensing under him. Bucky kisses his taint, and then his hole again. His tongue brushes against Steve's rim, then circles it before pressing its pointed tip in. 

“My lord,” Steve breathes out as Bucky pushes in.

“Sweet,” Bucky murmurs back.

Bucky’s tongue is slim and firm as it breaches him, saliva thick and slick. Steve presses his head back with a groan. The tongue pushes deeper than should be possible, but also gets broad and spongey right over Steve’s prostate. Bucky’s hand, cold and ended in sharp claws, wraps around his cock, two long fingers slide up his shaft, and one long claw traces up his frenulum. Steve shivers, another moan slipping out.

“Yes,” Bucky growls, now squeezing Steve’s cock. “You open so easily, boy.”

“Feels good,” Steve exhales. 

“You’re gonna feel perfect,” Bucky says, shoving his tongue in again. “ _Fuck._ ”

Steve grabs his dick with a whine. Bucky presses a claw flat against the meat of Steve’s ass, a prickpoint of pain at the tip of it sends another Shiver down Steve’s spine. Bucky growls into his hole, then his tongue _twists_ over itself, doubles in thickness then somehow maintains the length, Steve groans as the tip presses up against his prostate and rolls. He loses grip of time, caught up in the roll of Bucky’s tongue in his ass, the prick of his claws threatening to break his skin. He recognizes the change of time only when Bucky slides a finger into him, too.

“God, more,” Steve moans, “more, my Lord, I shall beg.”

Bucky’s tongue slides from his body. “want more?” he asks. “More of what?”

“You, sir!” Steve whines. “Your hand, your tongue, your cock, more!”

Bucky growls against his hole, then pulls back. He slides two thick fingers into Steve’s hole, the tips just kiss along Steve’s walls, just to his prostate, and Steve feels almost like he’s going to come. He’s so sure he’s going to orgasm, he opens his mouth to warn Bucky, but just as suddenly as it overpowers him, Steve feels it just cut off before it even properly starts.

“Not without my say so, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs. “I think you should feel my wrist in your hole before my cock.”

Steve groans, pushing back against Bucky. “Okay,” he says, “yes, whatever you say, my Lord.”

“How respectful,” Bucky purrs. 

Steve groans, gripping his prick tightly. Pleasure flooded him, beckoned on Bucky’s two fingers curling against his prostate. He purrs against Steve’s thigh, another finger burning against Steve’s rim. Bucky teased him moments longer, bringing gasps to Steve’s lips. The third finger breached him steadily, another kiss of a talon against the most delicate skin of his body. How about my hand, darling?" he purrs, the point of a second finger threatening his rim. "Is that more enough for you?"

"Yes, yes," Steve answers, melting for him. "I can take it, my Lord, please, give it to me!"

"I know you can take it," Bucky says, licking over his hole. "It's going to be beautiful, this pretty hole stretched around my wrist -- God, I can't even imagine how pretty you're going to be when this rim is stretched over my _cock._ "

"So pretty," Steve promises, concentrating on relaxing so Bucky can fuck him. "My lord, the -- the absolute loveliest, you'll love me, you'll love me."

"Surely," Bucky agrees.

Steve nods quickly, pulling his legs open. Bucky's second finger teases his rim, just kissing it, the slides inside. Steve feels himself open easy and wet like a woman, especially _wet,_ but all he has to slick him up is Bucky's saliva. Bucky's fingers curl, putting delicious pressure on his prostate while the claws prick at his walls. A third claw traces his rim, then enters him easily. Bucky's tongue pushes into him as well, just a thin touch at first, the stiffening like a fourth finger. Bucky growls, vibrations rolling through Steve from his hole to the roof of his mouth, putting a long shudder of pleasure down his spine. 

Bucky's tongue rolls on itself again, sliding over his prostate and just teasing it. Steve again feels like he’s close to coming, but that lead-up just stays level with Bucky’s tongue rubbing over his sweet spot. Bucky pulls his tongue out, replacing it with his pinky. Steve clenches around them, moaning as his claws scrape along his walls. Bucky’s thumb traces over his inner thigh, giving him another shiver.

“Nearly ready, darling,” Bucky says, voice rough and enticing. “Going to look so beautiful with my hand up this sweet hole.”

Steve nods with a groan. Bucky’s thumb teases him a minute longer, then, it too, slides past Steve’s rim.

“There we go,” Bucky murmurs, his wrist _finally_ stretching Steve’s rim. “Look at that…”

Steve clenches around Bucky’s hand with a groan. Bucky chuckles, his hand curling together. He rocks it in and out, the points of each claw pressed together as a blunt, tapered force deep inside Steve. Steve pushes back against his fist, a groan escaping his lips. Bucky twists his wrist, fucking him, delicious momentum just propelling him further into pleasure. 

“Just beautiful,” Bucky says softly. “I think you’re finally ready, young man. Would you prefer my cock to my hand, darling?”

“Yes, my lord,” Steve says quickly, eagerly. “I’m ready, sir, you can give it all to me, please, sir.”

Bucky stands up on his knees between Steve’s legs, again slapping his massive cock against Steve’s hip. “You’re sure?” he asks with a purr, twisting his hand in Steve’s hole. “You can take all this?”

“Yes,” Steve swears, “yes, sir, I’m ready for it and I am dying for it, my lord.”

Bucky grins, his mouth full of teeth glistening with saliva. “I’m sure you are,” he purrs.

He pulls his hand out, opening his fingers as he does. Steve whimpers at the drag of his claws, the stretch to his rim, then is left panting when it’s gone. Bucky pulls his cock off Steve’s hip, so heavy he has to support it with a fist around the base of the shaft. Steve nods, breathing hard as he anticipates that beast in his body.

“You’ve been very good for me, darling,” Bucky says softly. “I’m going to make you scream now.”

“I’m ready,” Steve promises, pulling his legs back by his knees. “Please give it to me, my lord.”

Bucky leans over him, bringing that toothy grin closer. He slots his cock up against Steve’s hip again, proving to him just how big it is as the base hits his balls but the tip stretches far past his navel.

“You’re going to take this whole thing,” Bucky says. “And it’s going to be _blissful_ for me, my sweet. Of course, it’ll still blissful if I shift back to human. Are you sure you can take all this?”

“Yes,” Steve promises. “I can take it, my lord.”

Bucky nods. He picks up his cock again – And Steve still can’t get over the fact that it’s so big that he has to help it along – and puts the pointed, barbed tip right against Steve’s hole. Steve takes a deep breath, making eye contact with Bucky.

“I can take it,” Steve repeats softly.

Bucky nods. He traces a thumb around Steve’s rim, then puts the weight behind his cock and _punches_ in. Steve gasps, eyes rolling back in his head – He’s about to finish, he opens his mouth to warn Bucky, but then it doesn’t fucking crest and burst and finish into an orgasm, it stays _level._

“Good boy,” Bucky says, his voice going rough. “I’m not going to tell you I’m going to be gentle, pet, are you ready?”

Steve nods, panting for breath. Bucky nods back, a smirk curling his lip.

“Yes,” Bucky murmurs, “good boy.”

His balls are pressed to Steve’s ass, weighted and hot, but he pushes Steve’s legs back at the knees and starts to truly, properly hammer him. Steve throws his head back, mouth stretched silently as he’s overwhelmed by it. Bucky sets a brutal pace and Steve realizes that the kiss of his claws inside him was nothing compared to the rip of his cock every time it comes in and out of Steve’s hole with the spikes and growing barbs.

“Fucking _perfect,_ ” Bucky growls out. “Not wasting any time, darling. I’ve been waiting to fuck this delicious ass since you entered this house – Better than I expected, better than I dreamed, my pet –”

“My lord,” Steve forces out weakly. “Use me, please, my lord, I’m yours.”

Bucky grins, his teeth shining. “Chin up, baby,” he says.

Steve lifts his chin. Bucky presses close, kisses Steve’s jaw, then his neck.

His tongue traces around Steve’s pulse. Then his teeth just kiss the skin. Steve shudders, taking a deep breath. Bucky bites him, a sharp jolt of pain hitting him while his cock hammers pleasure through him. Steve feels the rush of blood leaving him, lightheadedness hitting him nearly as hard as Bucky’s balls are as they smack against his ass.

“God,” Bucky groans, licking over Steve’s neck. “Beautiful, _delicious._ ”

“My lord,” Steve gasps. “Take me, take me –”

Bucky groans on Steve’s neck, then closes his lips firm over the bleeding spot and sucks. Steve groans; it feels like he’s being sucked right out of that prick on his neck, going with the blood that Bucky is drinking from him, propelled by the force of Bucky’s cock in his ass. He whines, just consumed by Bucky’s everything. Bucky groans against Steve’s neck.

“Those barbs,” Bucky says, licking Steve’s neck. “They’re going to stick out once I come. Keep me inside you.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Steve blasphemes. “Really?”

“Yes,” Bucky chuckles. “How do you feel about that?”

Steve just shudders and nods. Bucky laughs, then licks blood from his neck again and resumes sucking on the bite mark. Steve will have such an awful bruise later, but he doesn’t care. He feels lighter than air, lifted just for Bucky to slam into. It’s so damn good, he barely notices the steady drip of blood leaving his neck. 

“Delicious,” Bucky pants out. “I want to feel you coming, sweetheart, I’m close.”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, “yes, I wanna come, my lord, please, sir, be _perfect_ for you –”

“Here you go,” Bucky snarls, snapping his hips against Steve’s, “so fucking beautiful with my cock filling you up, makes your fucking stomach stick out, baby, gonna come –”

“Please, my lord!” Steve shouts.

There’s this sharp prick inside him. Steve’s eyes roll back, he can’t even discern where the barbs are, they just deploy and he feels this jolt of both pain and pleasure, much like the bite against his neck. Bucky latches his teeth into Steve’s shoulder, another flash of pain, then his hips still, heat explodes in Steve.

“You may come now,” Bucky says against his skin.

That simple permission triggers his orgasm; Steve’s mouth falls open and he just stops. All he feels is the orgasm. 

Steve opens his eyes again to the roof of the canopy. Bucky is laying behind him, holding him against his chest. Steve puts a hand on his neck, expecting to feel blood and cut flesh, but there’s just smooth skin. He eventually finds two small scabs, nearly healed already. He clenches his ass, and it feels well-fucked and loose, but only pleasantly sore.

“Good afternoon, my boy,” Bucky says softly. “How do you feel?”

Steve smiles, turning back against him. He cups Bucky’s cheek and pulls him into a slow kiss.

“Very well, my lord,” he says softly.

“I had a thought,” Bucky murmurs, his hand sweeping up Steve’s belly. “I’ve always wanted to write an encyclopedia of plants. Perhaps it’s time I leave my manor and explore the world a bit. But I would need someone to illustrate it.”

Steve grins. “I think I can do that,” he agrees.

The rain had started again while they’d been in bed. When Dr. Wilson returns, it’s too late to leave again. Steve is less than upset about that prospect.

**Author's Note:**

> _thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, i have more monster!bucky/human!steve on my site that i legally can't mention here but you can find through my twitter! you can follow me[here](https://twitter.com/moonythejedi); but please note that i am not comfortable with minors following me! minors also shouldn't really be reading this but who's gonna stop ya. just pls don't follow me. anyway!_
> 
> _if you liked this leave me a comment! this took me forever to write and i'm not kidding. love y'all_


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